


still they forget that the heart beats in threes

by blackwood (transjon)



Series: ace week jon ficlets [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Trans Martin Blackwood, ace subtype: no thanks but i'll watch you take care of yourself, coming on command
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27217984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transjon/pseuds/blackwood
Summary: “You’re very handsome, you know,” he says softly. One finger travels down Martin’s forehead, to his cheek, pets a gentle line across it. Martin leans into it with his whole head, closes his eyes.“Thank you,” he says. “So are you.”
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood
Series: ace week jon ficlets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987108
Comments: 16
Kudos: 206





	still they forget that the heart beats in threes

**Author's Note:**

> titles from firewood by regina spektor!
> 
> ft one of my fave flavors of sex neutral ace jon, called 'i like watching you feel good and i love you but it does nothing for me aside from making me feel very fond, because i love you' :D

Martin gasps. “Fuck,” he whimpers. “Jon.”

“Mm,” Jon hums. His hand in Martin’s hair tightens its grip. He turns the page with the other. “Yes?”

Martin rubs his cheek against Jon’s shoulder feverishly. Jon glances at him, just to see. And what a sight he is –

His big eyes shiny and dark, hair tousled. A beautiful dark flush on his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. His mouth is parted, tips of his front teeth just barely visible. Jon’s gaze travels down his neck, to his chest, down to his waist, where the duvet covers the rest of his body. Jon smiles. 

“You’re very handsome, you know,” he says softly. One finger travels down Martin’s forehead, to his cheek, pets a gentle line across it. Martin leans into it with his whole head, closes his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he says. “So are you.”

Jon, suddenly bashful, looks away. One hand rises to his face, hovers over his eyes, considers settling there. “I thought this was supposed to be about you.”

“It is,” Martin insists. The vibrator clicks, and then the noise gets louder. Martin lets out a little sigh. “I like looking at you.”

“Right, right,” Jon says, although he still feels a little embarrassed. “Well, ah, look all you want.”

Martin chuckles. The sound turns into a little moan, a transition from _ha_ to _ah_ , and Jon nestles in closer. Martin’s arm slings itself across Jon’s clothed waist, scrambling for something to hold onto. Jon buries his hand in Martin’s hair again, fingernails scratching gently over his scalp. 

“Close,” Martin mumbles. He pushes his head up into the touch, his hips moving slowly under the duvet. “Jon.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Jon says. 

“You’re _here_. That’s enough.”

Jon supposes it’d be weird for Martin to call out the name of the vibrator. Or the brand of it. The vague concept. “I am,” he agrees. 

“Jon,” Martin says again. He sounds so needy. Jon, heart full, wonders about giving and taking. 

“What do you need?” he asks. 

Martin shudders, and then bites his lip softly. “Tell me?”

Jon’s hands twitch. He smiles. 

“Come on, then,” Jon says sweetly, “come.”

And Martin _does._

It never gets old. How he can make it happen, as long as Martin’s almost there – just the word falling from Jon’s mouth, phrased like a command, and Martin tips over the edge, like water over a ledge. He shakes, and his mouth falls open, and his eyes squeeze shut. Jon watches it happen, hand moving slowly in Martin’s hair, and Martin pants, and makes noise, and Jon tries to dissect every reaction in real time, to break each action into its most basic parts.

It doesn’t do anything _for_ him. Not the way it does for Martin, at least – doesn’t make him cross his legs, desperate for just the barest hint of contact the way Martin gets the rare instances he gets to watch _Jon_ get off. But Martin is so sweet, and so lovely, and he looks so beautiful, and Jon, sitting here with a book open in his lap, one hand in Martin’s hair, feels so lucky. So safe. Like he’s been trusted with something precious. How Martin allows him to see him at his most vulnerable. Scary and bare and good, how he knows Jon doesn’t want to touch but likes looking, how he’s here just to be looked at, doesn’t shy away, not uncomfortable with his gaze. Doesn’t ask for Jon’s hands. Just his eyes. Always just his eyes. 

“Mm,” Martin hums finally. “Thank you.”

Jon leans closer, kisses Martin on the cheek. “Love you,” he says.

Martin leans into the touch. He sighs. “I love you, too.”


End file.
